Standing in her pajamas in front of the door of her hotel room, she was terrified as Haultain entered. She had been watching her favorite movie, “The Sound of Music.” She knew what he was going to do and felt powerless to stop it. Then, she detailed to prosecutors and in her lawsuit, he penetrated her together with his hands.
The subsequent day, she could barely get a ball over the online in the course of the tournament. He berated her and told her to maneuver on from what had happened.
She returned to San Diego broken. Days later, back in Kansas City, unable to sleep or eat or do schoolwork and dreading an upcoming trip with Haultain to a tournament in Portugal, Jensen answered yes when her oldest sister asked if her coach had abused her. Her sister then told her parents.
Jensen immediately stopped training with Haultain. Her parents encouraged her to maintain playing, to not let Haultain steal her love for the sport. They weren’t aware of the complete extent of the abuse because they’d not pressed her for details. So that they tried to reduce the trauma by coping with it privately, she said.
Fred Jensen now realizes what a terrible mistake that was, for his daughter and for the security of other children. His instinct told him to guard his daughter’s anonymity, to attempt to, in his words, “coach her through it,” “engineer her return to normalcy” and save her from the blame and victimization that so many survivors of sexual assault experience. That was the precise opposite of what his daughter needed, which was disclosure, the involvement of the police and, ultimately, justice.
“Predators count on that you simply are usually not going to pursue something like this,” he said.
In the summertime of 2010, nonetheless, Jensen told a teacher what Haultain had done to her. The teacher was obligated to tell the police, and he did.
Jensen understands now that Haultain essentially brainwashed her, that he was superb at getting what he wanted, as so many predators are.